Shimmerforce
by Lara-Van
Summary: Molly is the only person who knows who baby Daniella's real father is. When Matt gets really messed up after Daphne's death, Molly knows she's the only person who can care for the speedster's infant daughter. Bad summary, but I promise it's amazing!
1. Prologue: A World Collapsed

**A Note From Lara:** This is actually a sequel to my Daphne/Peter oneshot, Forgotten. You need to read that first. Don't worry, it's not long. Anyway, I was thinking about Molly's role in that, as the only person besides Peter who knows that Daniella is his daughter and not Matt's. And I started wondering what would have happened in the continuation of that "bad future." So this is assuming that despite Future!Peter's assassination attempt on Nathan, the future didn't get reset, and stuff just goes on as it has. Everything is canon, but... not. Not really AU, just... I don't know. Just work with me, 'kay?

* * *

_Molly Walker and Matt Parkman_

_Matt's Apartment- Manhattan_

Molly stared at the television, a pit of horror growing in her stomach at the image of the smoking hole that was Costa Verde. This was her fault, and not just because she told Daphne where to go. It was her fault because Peter had gone back to the past to try and change things. But he hadn't succeeded, and now Syl- no, he was Gabriel now, Molly watched him enough to know that much- Gabriel had been set off the way he should have been five years ago if things had gone a little differently in New York.

Either way, all this had happened because Peter was angry and grieving, and that was her fault. She had told him a truth he didn't want to hear.

"This is my fault," she said aloud. Not that she would tell Matt the full extent of why. She loved him like a father, but she knew that he was on the wrong side of this war. It didn't help that he had caused a split in her mind when he tried to make her believe that he and Daphne were really married, that Daniella was his daughter. It was a confusing double-resonance in her head when she thought about the past- she saw things both as they really were, and as Matt wanted her to remember them.

But that didn't change the fact that he was nearly the only person she had left to trust in the world, and he did care about her. "Don't talk like that," he said comfortingly.

She shook her head. "I told her to go to Costa Verde. If they hadn't been there, this wouldn't have happened."

At that moment, the door swung open and Daphne stood framed in the doorway. Matt leapt to his feet, and Molly observed the love in his face. Whether any of their relationship was real or not, he really did love her.

But the apprehension that had been growing in her chest since the moment she saw the devastation on the TV screen rose in a crescendo of panic as Daphne whispered, "I wasn't fast enough." And then she collapsed.

Matt caught her, whispering comforts and begging her to pull through, but she was fading fast, and Molly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream at the sight of the welts and radiation burns that covered her foster mother's back. As the light in Daphne's eyes flickered, Matt allowed her to slide out of his arms onto the floor, crying softly into his hands, nearly hysterical with premature grief.

Molly hurried across the floor to kneel beside Daphne. "Mom?" she whispered, cradling her in her arms as Matt had just moments before.

For a moment, Daphne's eyes flashed clear. "I remember," she choked out softly. "Everything. Tell... tell Daniella when she's old enough." Her head fell back and a soft sigh escaped her.

The teenager closed her eyes for a moment against the sting of tears. It might not have been real, but it had been good to have a family again. A single tear seeped through her lashes, and Molly allowed herself a few seconds to feel the keen loss. Then she pressed a hand against her face to wipe away the moisture, and she rose to her feet.

Matt knelt on the floor beside his "wife," nearly hysterical with silent sobbing. She looked down at him for a moment, and was torn between comforting him and doing what needed to be done. But she knew that it would do no good to hug him and tell him it would be okay, because it wouldn't. Things hadn't been okay for a long time. She had pinned her hopes on Peter to fix it all, and he had failed, so now it was up to her. Maybe she couldn't save the world, but she could save what was left of this family.

And so she didn't give in to the urge to join him on the floor and cry. Instead, she put a bottle of formula in the microwave for Daniella and crossed over to the cracked telephone hanging on the wall in the kitchen and dialed.

When it was answered, Molly spoke curtly, angrily, to the woman whom she most blamed for losing Daphne. "Claire," she said harshly, "You'd better get your ass down here. You more innocent blood on your hands."

"What?" the ex-cheerleader asked snidely.

"It's Daphne," Molly replied in a fiercely calm voice. "She made it back here, but she couldn't survive her injuries. Now either you come down here and heal her with that magic blood of yours, or I will personally hunt you down and put a bullet in that soft spot in the back of your head."

"So violent for a little girl," Claire said condescendingly. "Fine, kid, I'll be there in an hour--" Suddenly, a loud commotion was heard in the background and when Claire spoke again, it wasn't to Molly. "What? What's happening? Rene, what's-- Shit! Peter, damn you...! Dad, no!"

The connection was cut off suddenly.

* * *

She found out later that the reason Claire had suddenly gone off-grid was the murder of President Nathan Petrelli, presumably at the hands of his time-traveling brother. But because of it, Claire wasn't free to come in time to save her associate.

The funeral was held a week later. Matt was a wreck, crying his eyes out, and Molly wondered how it was possible that he had come to care so quickly for a woman he hardly knew. You'd think they'd been married their whole adult lives, instead of six months of a whammy-induced relationship. But Molly sometimes suspected his mind-melds affected him to some degree as well, especially the very emotional ones.

For two months, the country was in chaos. The power structure on Capitol Hill had been completely destabilized by the assassination of the President, and with Tracy Strauss-Petrelli refusing to move out of the White House, the tabloids had a great deal to talk about in addition to the sudden increase in violent, power-related crime. But eventually, things stabilized, with ex-Secretary of State Adrian Cooper taking Nathan's place.

But the Parkman/Walker home didn't return to normal. Not even a little bit.

Matt was never the same after losing Daphne. Something broke inside him when she died, and things spiraled rapidly out of control. Molly noticed it first when the stock of the liquor cabinet went up sharply over the course of a few weeks. That wasn't all. He would leave the oven on, or forget to lock the door, or leave Daniella alone for hours on end.

Finally, Molly knew what she had to do.

"I'm taking Dani," she announced when Matt returned to the apartment that night (or really, it was early morning by that time). "Tomorrow. I'm taking her, and we're leaving. Matt, you gotta pull yourself together, but you can't do that and try to take care of a baby."

He didn't argue. He probably knew she was right. Either way, Molly packed a diaper bag and her own suitcase, and that morning they were on the eight a.m. Greyhound out of the City.

* * *

I know, I know. Shouldn't start a new fic. I always say that. But this one won't be long, and two of my ongoing fics only have two or three more chapters left, so I'll have those wrapped up soon. And I know I should do some of the ones on my To Do list before I start with new ideas but... what can I say? The words are there for this one!


	2. Chapter 1: Rebel

**A Note From Lara:** Woot! Update! Alright, I have a plot in mind for this, but it's really nebulous at the moment, so if you have any suggestions or plot ideas, _feel free to let me know in your review_. Also, now that I'm past the prologue (which I almost always write in third-person anyway), I have switched to first-person narration, as I think it'll really help me develop Molly's character more richly.

* * *

_A Bus on the way to New Orleans_

I had intended to go to Hiro. No matter what else happened, I knew that Hiro would always be there to help me. But when I looked for him, all I found was static. That could only mean one thing- Hiro Nakamura was dead. He wasn't time-traveling. I always could find him even when he was in a different time. This was different. He wasn't any_where_ or any_when_.

The ability to GPS through time had been very confusing when it first presented itself. My power had undergone a _lot_ of changes in the last few years, but that was one of the strangest. I had to look carefully to narrow down the time frame I was searching in, or my brain totally overloaded and I passed out.

Whatever. Not really important. What was important was that instead, I had come to New Orleans to find the only other person I knew would help me without any reserve: Micah. Or, as he called himself lately, Rebel.

I flipped open my laptop and logged onto MSN.

**IKnowWhereULive**: Yo, Micah! U on?

**Rebel**: Always, babe. Are you okay?

**IKnowWhereULive**: One, don't call me babe. Two, not really.

**Rebel**: Whats up?

I glanced at the infant in the little bassinet on the seat next to me. Oh boy. Micah really had no idea what was about to land on his doorstep.

**IKnowWhereULive**: U remember what I told u about Matt?

**Rebel**: Yeah. You said he took your mom's death really hard.

**IKnowWhereULive**: Mic! She wasn't my mom. U know that.

**Rebel**: Okay, assuming your crazy the-last-four-years-of-your-life-are-all-a-brain-whammy-cooked-up-by-your-dad-to-make-us-all-think-Daphne's-his-wife theory is correct, what does that have to do with it?

**IKnowWhereULive**: He's really messed up, Micah. He's got issues. Not safe for Dani anymore.

**Rebel**: There's an "and" isn't there?

**IKnowWhereULive**: =)

**Rebel**: I hate "ands." They're almost as bad as "buts." *sigh* What is it this time, Moll?

**IKnowWhereULive**: I can't stay with Matt anymore. Well, I can, but Daniella really can't. I can't be there 24/7, and until he gets his shit together, it's not safe for him to take care of her.

**Rebel**: Please don't say what I think you're gonna say...

**IKnowWhereULive**: Can we crash at ur place?

**IKnowWhereULive**: Just for a couple of weeks? Only until I figure out something better.

**Rebel**: I guess.

**IKnowWhereULive**: So enthusiastic...

**Rebel**: Bite me. You're the one dropping in on my lair with basically no advance warning.

**IKnowWhereULive**: ??

**Rebel**: Oh, don't be so innocent, Moll. You're probably practically on my doorstep right now, aren't you?

**IKnowWhereULive**: Actually, no. I'm on a bus about two hours from the Big Easy as we speak.

**IKnowWhereULive**: But that wasn't what I was talking about. Ur "lair"? WTF, man?

**Rebel**: Hey! If I wanna call it a lair I will!

**IKnowWhereULive**: Yeah, well, if u haven't cleaned it in the last couple of days it's actually probably closer to a lair than anything else.

**Rebel**: :(

**IKnowWhereULive**: Hey, I only call it as I see it.

**IKnowWhereULive**: *astral projects to ur room*

**IKnowWhereULive**: OMG GROSS!!!!

**Rebel**: ...?? You can do that?

**IKnowWhereULive**: Sadly? Yeah. My power's gone really mega-expansion-pack recently.

**Rebel**: Maybe they put something in the water...

**IKnowWhereULive**: "They" wouldn't do that. U would, though. More pwps = good for us, yeah?

**Rebel**: More champions for the cause is always good, Molly.

**IKnowWhereULive**: Yeah, well, looks like ur previous "champion" sorta went down in flames, huh.

**IKnowWhereULive**: Micah! U gonna respond.

**Rebel**: Peter was like the awesome older brother I never had, Molly. That's not funny.

**IKnowWhereULive**: It wasn't supposed to be. Listen, I know something about Dani that u really need to hear. It might help.

**Rebel**: What is it?

**IKnowWhereULive**: I don't really wanna say it over the internet. Not secure enough.

**Rebel**: I can secure the connection

**IKnowWhereULive**: Yeah, but there'd still be a ghost record of the convo.

**Rebel**: You have learned well, little Grasshopper

**IKnowWhereULive**: =P

**Rebel**: Alright, fine. Good point. I could probably erase that too, but if you'd really rather keep it low-profile...

**IKnowWhereULive**: Yah, I do. Tell u when I get there, k?

**Rebel**: Okay. See you in a couple hours.

I closed the laptop and leaned back against the windowpane, staring at the lush southern countryside as it streaked past beside the window. Then I glanced down at Daniella. "What a messed-up world we live in, huh sweetie?" I said rhetorically. The little brown-eyed baby gurgled and grinned up at me, and I couldn't help but smile. Dani was the most adorable baby I'd ever seen, and I couldn't believe that I was practically her big sister.

Suddenly it crashed over me, everything that I'd done in the last twenty-four hours. I had taken Daniella away from the closest thing to a father she had now, the only parent left to her. With Mom (no, _Daphne_, I reminded myself) gone, and Peter presumably dead as well, the only people in the world who truly cared about her were Matt and me. Had I been right to take her away? I had no idea. And I had no idea how I was going to manage the time ahead.

I mean, for god's sake! I was only fourteen? What the hell was I thinking, trying to raise a little girl all on my own in a world that wanted my kind dead? And the people I was turning to for help weren't any better.

With Peter Petrelli and Hiro Nakamura dead or missing or whatever, "Rebel" had been promoted to the second slot in the America's Most Wanted Top Ten list. The only person they would want to find more badly than Micah was Noah Bennet, and he hadn't been heard from since Nathan Petrelli was killed.

The weight of the world suddenly seemed to settle on my shoulders. It was a weight that I was determined to keep from Dani for as long as I possibly could: she, at least, deserved the quiet childhood I'd never gotten.

Was this how Peter had felt? How all those fighters who had stood up to try and stop the advent of the Formula had felt? Only it must have been so much worse for them, because they were trying to shelter everyone, not just one baby girl. Overwhelmed by the unknown waiting for me out there, I laid my head against the window again and cried.

A few hours later, I awoke to the pneumatic hiss of the bus and discovered that I'd slept the rest of the way to New Orleans. I dragged my suitcase down from the overhead compartment, picked up Daniella in her carrier, and walked down the steps and into the bright morning sunshine of my new life...

* * *

Don't expect many updates on this, because I REALLY need to get WTRL and Exodus wrapped up ASAP. And also Rebel's Angels and SOS and TSATS and Jealousy and Stuck (very funny, btw)... Yeah, I've got lots of works-in-progress. *is a BAD fanfic-er* I'll deal with that, I promise! And then this will get updated more often.


	3. Chapter Two: A Savior and an Oath

**A Note From Lara:** It's been awhile since I updated this, and even though I know I have more pressing stories to work on, I just need some good old fashioned Molly butt-kicking time. I wasn't sure about ages in this fic, because of Heroes convoluted weird-ass timeline, but my guess is that by this point, Molly is about sixteen and Micah is seventeen. Just so that's clarified.

* * *

_Molly Walker_

_Dawson Home, New Orleans_

I stared resolutely at the door, suitcase in one hand and bassinet in the other. After a few moments of psyching myself up for this, I hurried up the steps and knocked on the door before I could change my mind. Did Micah bring all kinds of trouble on this household all the time? Yes. Did that mean I had the same right? Probably not. But it was too late now. I was here, and I was going to have to make sure my presence didn't endanger Monica or Damien or Nana or Micah any more than Micah himself already did.

The door swung open and Micah stood there, grinning at me. For a moment, I could hardly catch my breath at the sight of him; I hadn't seen him in almost a year, and somewhere in the intervening months, he'd shot up about a zillion feet and gotten... well... _hot_.

"Molly!" he yelled before sweeping me into a tight hug. In doing so he effectively squeezed the dirty thoughts out of my head. What was I thinking? This was _Micah_, my best friend of six years. His relative hotness shouldn't be an issue even crossing my mind. "It's great to see you!" he exclaimed when he finally let me go. Clearly, despite his earlier grumbling about my popping up with little advance warning, he was glad to see me.

I grinned at him. "I know," I said. "It's been way too long." My cheerful mood dried up a little, though, at the thought of what had happened to prompt this visit. I could actually feel the smile slip a little. "I just wish circumstances were better."

Micah shrugged. "When are circumstances _ever_ better?" he asked. He picked up my suitcase, then frowned at its lightness. "This is all you brought?"

"I've uprooted my life enough times to know that it's better to pack useful and light."

"True," he said. "Come on in. Monica's psyched that you're coming- I swear she's been baking from the minute I told her you were on your way."

"Let me guess: it's the mousse-torte thing again?" I asked, sniffing the air as I stepped over the threshold.

"Yep," he said. "Not that I'm complaining, but it wouldn't kill her to make that when we're not expecting company." His handsome face was suddenly serious. "So, um, what was it that was so secret that you couldn't even type it earlier?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but at that moment, Monica swept out from the kitchen. "Molly!" she exclaimed. "Micah said you were coming! Come in! I just made a chocolate torte!" Spying the baby in my arms, she swooped down and scooped Daniella out of her bassinet. "And who is this?" she asked, cuddling the little blonde baby and making cooing noises. It's really disgusting how some people are around babies. Trust me, they get a lot less cute when you have to change their diaper at two in the morning.

After making an apologetic face at Micah, I turned back to Monica. "That's Daniella," I said. "Daphne's daughter."

Monica's eyes widened. "Oh, poor thing!" she exclaimed. "Well, we're glad to have the two of you here. Come on, Molly, I'll show you the room Nana's got set up for you, okay?"

* * *

In the end, it was several hours before the whirlwind that usually accompanies a new arrival in a friendly home like the Dawson's died down. It wasn't until after a dinner comprised mostly of the results of Monica's mad cooking skills and partly of fast food takeout. As per usual, Big Cousin Damien was acting like an idiot and trying to prove his general macho-ness. I wasn't much amused, but Clueless couldn't tell that and thought I was into him. As per usual. Micah rolled his eyes at me and I couldn't help but laugh and wonder how the hell these two shared DNA.

Finally, just as I was getting ready to go to bed, Monica and Micah came into my room. "So, Micah said you've got something to tell us," Monica said.

It felt almost like the sleepovers I'd had in this house with these people before the world fell apart. It felt warm and friendly and comforting. It felt like home. Except it wasn't. The secret I had to impart to them was so impossibly consequential that it dispelled the sense of ease and camaraderie and made me feel like I was drifting outside myself, watching the scene from above (not as strange a feeling as you would think- with my ability, I was used to it). It was all so surreal it made my head spin.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, in my pajamas, with my long hair damp from the shower I'd taken earlier, I gestured to them to close the door and come closer. Monica complied and plopped herself down against the headboard, imitating my cross-legged pose. Micah dropped into the chair across the small room. I was glad, for the sake of my ability to focus, if nothing else, that he had elected to put on a shirt in addition to his boxers.

"You guys remember what I told you, about how Matt and Daphne weren't really married--"

"And that it's all a Parkman Whammy he cooked up because she used to work on the government side, then turned, then was captured when she was six months pregnant and he wanted to protect her?" Monica finished for me. "Yeah, we remember."

"Good," I said. Then I sighed. This was harder than I'd imagined to explain. I had absolutely no idea how to drop the bombshell I was carrying around in my head. "Look, I'm assuming you believe me. You knowmy brain doesn't work the same way as everybody else's, and you know that Matt's mind-melds don't work the same way on me. And if you believe me, that opens up some pretty big questions."

"Like who Daniella's father is," Micah said.

I nodded. "Exactly. Daniella's biological father..." Then I sighed, pushing my wet hair behind my ears in frustration. "The reason Daphne quit working with Claire last year is because she fell in love with somebody on the wrong side of the fence."

Micah was staring at me. "Someone on our side?" I nodded, and I watched his eyes flit to the crib where the baby was curled up, asleep. He rose to his feet and crossed the room, staring down at the sleeping infant, studying her. Micah was insanely smart, the smartest person I'd ever met, and I didn't think it would take him long to put the pieces together.

But apparently I (once again) overestimated Micah's deductive powers when it came to matters of the heart, because it became obvious that he had no idea what I was talking about. "She was with Peter Petrelli for almost a year before Claire and Matt tracked them down."

Both Micah and Monica stared at me. "So _Daniella_ is...?" Monica whispered.

I nodded. "Yep. Dani's the last surviving Petrelli."

At my words, Micah stiffened. Monica whispered, "Oh my god. That means... Micah! The comic book!"

Utterly confused, I watched Micah sprint out of the room. "What--?" I began, but Monica shushed me, assuring me that they would explain once Micah returned. In no time, he was back, clutching a comic book in his hands- hands, I was surprised to realize, that were shaking. "What's going on, you guys?" I demanded.

Micah flapped the pages of the comic book idly against his hands, looking deeply perturbed. He half-fell on the bed next to me, on the opposite side from Monica. He shot a helpless glance at his cousin, who hurried to explain for him.

"You see," Monica said, "About two years ago, we met this precog in Africa. Guy named Usutu. Brilliant. Horrible taste in music, though. He told us that the last surviving Petrelli would be our final messiah, or some grandiose-sounding thing like that. And we figured that meant Peter."

"Which would be a logical assumption, given that he was the most powerful of us all," I pointed out.

Micah nodded. "Exactly. That's what Usutu said: that this great savior would be the most powerful of all, so it made sense that it would be Peter. And he was always so good, you know? Even when he got really messed up, he was always doing the right thing."

"But... what about Nathan?" I asked. "Or Claire? Didn't you guys think of them?"

My technopath BFF snorted. "Oh, sure, because of COURSE Nathan Petrelli, figurehead for All That Is Evil, is going to be a savior for the very people fighting him."

"And as for Claire," Monica explained, "She's not a Petrelli. Didn't you know? After her mother was killed, she took the name Gordon."

"Huh. I should really keep up," I muttered.

"But after we left Usutu, there was still this," Micah said, holding up the comic. "It was a Mendez. _9th Wonders_. It was one of the ones in the backpack we were trying to get back the day Mom--" He broke off, and I knew why. His mother's death still bothered him after all these years. "Anyway, as far as we can tell, we've got the only copy that hasn't been destroyed."

"Much like almost all of Isaac Mendez's work," I pointed out.

"Yeah," Monica said. "Anyway, have a look at the last few panels."

Micah handed me the comic book, and I studied the page it was open to. On the one side, it showed dark-haired Claire Gordon holding a gun, dressed in her typical leather catsuit, staring down a target. But instead of her usual Ice Princess look of determined scorn, there was actual fear in her eyes. Her fearful, defiant statement in the caption bubble read, "So... _you're_ the savior they've been waiting for." Intrigued, I flipped the page to look at the final panel of the comic book. On the verso was depicted a young woman, probably only fifteen or sixteen years old, with long blonde hair and large brown eyes, wearing jeans and tennis shoes and a red sweatshirt. At the bottom of the panel was the caption _To Be Continued... In the next issue of 9th Wonders, find out the true identity of the world's greatest savior!_

I looked up at them anxiously. "Where's the next one? Do you have it?"

He shook his head. "This is issue #346. #347 switches back to Isaac's usual Hiro Nakamura storyline. It seems like it was just this issue and the one before it that he followed the events leading up to this. It really ticked off a lot of fans at the time, because everyone wanted to know who the girl was, and then Mendez went and got himself killed by Sylar and just left us hanging."

"So... you think this is Daniella?" I asked, pointing a finger at the blonde teenager on the page.

Monica shrugged. "Probably. If she's really Peter's daughter..."

"She's got incredible potential," Micah said, half to himself. "The progeny of a speedster and an empath... that's a potent mixture. Daphne bent the laws of physics on a daily basis, and as for Peter... Daniella could grow up to be amazingly powerful."

"The most powerful of us all," I whispered, staring at the baby sleeping softly in the crib. Then I looked solemnly back at Micah and Monica. "We have to protect her," I said firmly. "We have to keep her safe. God knows, there's absolutely no way we can fix the world ourselves. We're just... not powerful enough. Much as we'd like to be, we're not enough. But if you're right, something about her _is_. If we're gonna fix this living hell the world is turning into, if we're going to fix all this bull about powers and formulas and testing facilities, we've got to keep her safe so that she'll be able to grow up and stop it."

Micah and Monica nodded, both their faces cast into shadow by the slanted light of the single lamp. "We have to swear never to tell anyone," I said. "No one can know the truth about Daniella. Everyone has to keep thinking she's Matt's daughter. Even her." They nodded again. "We have to keep her safe, and we have to keep her an absolute secret."

That night, though none of us knew it at the time, we were all sealing our destinies, tying our fates to the fate of the infant baby girl who slept in the cradle in the corner...


End file.
